Fiat Justitia

Anders stared at the wall, having difficulty finding sleep despite his exhaustion. The collar was a weight around his neck – in many regards, it reminded him of a Qunari mage he had seen once. Captured in the war, his karataam - his unit - had been paraded into the square at the forum. The handlers were executed one by one, much to the excitement of the citizens gathered. When the saarebas was left, his restraints and artefacts were removed, and the stitching on his lips was cut and healed. He refused to speak - if he even spoke the language – and killed himself. A collar that subdued him. Another tower to keep him. What would the Hero think of him now? Such a silly thought to encounter. Ferelden was a lifetime away. The bed sunk behind him, and Anders shuffled to glance over his shoulder. It had been an awkward few nights lying in the small bed with the elf. Thankfully his days were long, and every other night he had been asleep before Fenris had joined him. They had scarce exchanged a word since their… kiss. Danarius had yet to return to the bedchamber. "You're awake, then?" Fenris said under his breath. He bristled some, hesitating before he stood again to remove his tights. Anders cleared his throat, trying not to look. He'd been allowed to keep his smalls, and though Fenris had slept in the buff, somehow seeing him strip was worse than merely waking up next to a naked man. "I am." "Do you mind if I sleep there?" Fenris asked, motioning along the wall. "No, not at all - sorry," Anders hurriedly said, keeping the sheets around his waist as he sat up. The elf glanced at him, his expression difficult to read in the low light, before crawling across, and lying down to face the wall. He pulled the sheet up to his waist, wrapping an arm underneath his head for a pillow. Steadying a hand on the edge of the bed, Anders laid back down, with one of his arms half-dangled off the bed to allow a modicum of space between them. Staring at the ceiling, Anders' eyes grew heavy, and though he had less space, feeling weight in the bed beside him was a comfort - Marian or not. It was an unknown amount of time later when Anders woke in a half-haze, pressing his lips to skin and breathing in as he ran his hand over an abdomen-that-was-far-too-chiselled. Tensing, he snapped his hand back, and shifting in the bed, nearly fell onto the floor. His barefoot smacked the tile, and he glanced to where Danarius slept - thank Andraste's sweet tits, the bed was still empty. "I - I am so sorry," Anders stammered, hips still on the bed. He ran a hand up through his stubble and across his face, waking more. "That was unfair." "It's alright," Fenris replied, his throat more gravelly in sleep. What little light there was made his tattoos stand out almost as much as his hair. Anders exhaled and closed his eyes, wiping over his mouth, "It isn't. I... I am just used to..." "To sleeping with her?" Fenris answered for him. "The thief?" "Yes," Anders said, putting his hands over his lap to conceal the hard-on poking under the sheet. Maker, the elf couldn't even see. Could he? And it wasn't as though he hadn't seen that sort of thing already - already pleasured him at Danarius' whims. "It doesn’t bother you? Who she is?" "Not really," Anders said, lying on his back finally. Fenris shifted, and their legs brushed together until he had situated himself with his back against the wall. "She does a lot of things for the right reasons. Even if they aren't always the brightest." "Hm," Fenris said, crossing his arms despite what little space their was. "I think this is the most you've said to me this whole time." Fenris' eyes dropped along Anders chest. The mage wasn't looking in any particular direction, but it was clear he was distracted. There was a soft down of hair - light curls that were unlike the greying hair on Danarius. He had more muscles than the magister - what use would a mage have for muscle? "It is not often my place to speak. It is easier to be silent," Fenris quietly said. "Safer." Anders frowned, "Have you always been a slave?" "I..." Fenris leant more against the cool of the wall, blinking lengthily. "I don’t remember." "What do you mean?" "Just that, mage," Fenris said, bristling and shifting again. The anger flared and he swallowed it. His eyes dropped to the sheets at the - it was out of line. "I apologize." "You don’t have to," Anders replied in a continued whisper. "I didn't mean to pry." They laid in silence for a while, and Fenris watched Anders close his eyes. Looking down the mage's body, he saw the arousal there weaken away beneath the sheets. His pulse was hard as he finally whispered, "I only remember Master Danarius and the markings. The pain of them." "You're very unique - and very strong," Anders said, sleepily opening his eye to look at him. "Lyrium poisons its share of people, human, elf, or otherwise. Physically... it destroys the minds of many." "And it didn't destroy mine?" Fenris asked, averting his eyes down. "Far from it," Anders said. "Well, at least as far as I've seen. I may yet be wrong." Fenris chuckled once, staring at formless shadows. Anders relaxed some, and their arms touched between the sheets. There was fatigue in his eyes, and bruising around his wrists where he'd been bound. Any mirth bled from his features. "Is she alright? Hawke, I mean." Expression almost hardening again, Fenris relaxed too, "She is disobedient and punished accordingly." Bitterly smirking, Anders said, "Not surprising. She has to be the most stubborn woman I know." "She should not question her place," Fenris shook his head, shoulders scrunching up. "Hadriana... is not kind." "No," Anders expression blanked. "She isn't." "I... do not think Danarius will kill her," Fenris softly said. "Thanks," Anders emptily replied. "I suppose I should take more comfort in that. Yay, she's not dead." Fenris settled, still watching the silhouette of Anders' features. He touched the mages arm, "She would be dead if you had not acted." Anders closed his eyes and more lightly said, "Yes, well she might not be in this at all if it weren't for me either." He sighed softly, and Fenris moved beside him. "It is rare to... be alone like this," the elf quietly said. "With someone other than my Master." "Maybe that's comforting in a way," Anders absently said, his attention drifting to where Fenris' hand had shifted down his side. He drew a breath to try and distract himself. "Though perhaps you’d rather be alone." "I don't know," Fenris said, feeling the muscles tense beneath his hand. Though it was at his Master's bidding, some part sparked in his stomach, an excitement to be allowed the freedom to touch. Anders swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling his loins stir again to strain in his small clothes as Fenris' slender hand crept over his abdomen. He tensed beneath the touch, and when the slave kissed his shoulder his voice cracked, "This is nothing you have to do, Fenris." "And if I wish to?" Fenris asked under his breath. He sat up and trailed his hand down to Anders' thigh, leaning closer to the man. "I," Anders opened his eyes, exhaling out at the teasing caress over his skin. Maker forgive him, if only Marian were there. He tried to find some strength in his voice, "That’s a different story then." Fenris found himself grinning as Anders turned, and he dug his fingers into the mage's thigh as their lips silently met. They kissed more earnestly this time, their tongues freely meeting, and it drew a groan from Anders that prompted the elf to graze his knuckles over his pent crotch. Each kiss drew a little longer, a foray of exploration and teasing that deepened their breath, and Fenris' own arousal pressed against Anders’ hip. Groaning, Anders broke the kiss, breathing against the elf's lips before he said, "You smell like lyrium. Did you know that?" "So I've been told," Fenris replied, and he cringed a bit as Anders kissed his chin. A strained breath escaped. "Sorry," Anders breathed, looking to Fenris' eyes. "No," Averting his gaze, Fenris tempered the discomfort of the touch, well aware of how the pain made his member throb. He ran his hand over Anders' crotch, pressing the restrained hardness, "Please…" Anders sighed and dipped his head into Fenris' neck, opening his mouth on the raised markings there to suckle the skin. He could feel the draw of the Fade in his skin, a near tingle on his tongue, and it prompted the mage to run his hand down Fenris' chiselled abs. The elf mirrored his touch, and soon each petted the other's throbbing need with scant teasing touches, prompting Anders to groan. Closing his eyes, Fenris laid his head back on the bed, and their movement creaked the small frame. He subdued his breath, whispering, "We mu… we must be quiet, lest my Master hear us." "I'm good at quiet," Running the back of his hand up Fenris' shaft, Anders nipped into his neck, finally gripping round the hardness with a slow stroke. The elf groaned, and there was a flare of light over his tattoos that only magnified the feel of the lyrium in his mouth. Fenris answered, pushing down Anders' smalls to free his member and grope it in reply. The power of his mana flared at the small bit of lyrium, and Anders lifted his head back to Fenris' lips, kissing him with a rough need. Their kisses met with a play for control, tongues plying together, sliding and muffling groans as they stroked each other in time. Anders finally turned his cheek, breathing near silently as he put his cheek over Fenris' lips. Eyes half-lidded in the dark, he let his tongue find his slender elven ear, teasing it as fingers tightened, slipping in precum and gliding skin over hard, hot want. Fenris bit his lips closed, silencing himself and closing his eyes. He could think of a time in the city with Danarius, when his Master had beckoned him into an alley. He had just slain a trio of assassins trying to end the magister's life, and pleased with the outcome, Danarius paid for a whore on his knees. It was rare he found pleasure anywhere, let alone by someone else, and given the reign to enjoy without thought of service. Anders' lips fell off Fenris' ear, delving into his neck again to suckle and nip at the lyrium markings. It brought another flush of subtle blue light, and the elf jerked his hips into the hand that pleasured him. It set Anders' pulse faster, and he bit more earnestly into the man's neck. Fenris' lips cracked, and he groaned as his sac tightened and succumb to pleasure, spilling into Anders' jerking hand. The sudden heat and soft gasps in his hair pushed Anders into his own frenzy, and trying to quiet his pants, Fenris jerked him quick and hard into his stomach, his own spilt seed making the motion slick and slipper. Anders closed his eyes, suckling on the lyrium tattoos as his release flooded him, ass tensing and hips urging against Fenris to spurt in release. Heads and hands intwined, they lay there in the dark, struggling with soft gulps and pursed lips to quiet themselves. Anders tenderly kissed beneath Fenris ear, lips trailing down his shoulder as the last ebbs of liberation drained away. At the uncommon affection, Fenris smeared his hand up his stomach, before wrapping the arm around Anders' neck to pull him in for a kiss. "Thank you," Anders breathily whispered as they laid pressed together, forehead-to-forehead. Fenris moved, and he tried to stop him. "I'm not going anywhere," Fenris said with a sliver of a grin. He tugged his jerkin to wipe down Anders' stomach and clean his hand. "You don't have to do that," Anders whispered. Fenris tossed the clothing over the head of the bed, before settling in the arm Anders offered him. He exhaled out, eyes averted down as the mage caressed him almost tenderly. Fenris closed his eyes as Anders pressed his lips to his forehead, and he softly whispered, "I wanted to."